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“Just like eighty percent—”
“No, no. This one is a beard.” Brenda stashed a twelve-pack of grape soda in the mini-fridge, then, hands free, demonstrated the full bushiness of Galen’s facial hair.
Granny was unfazed. She’d grown up here, after all. “What color?”
“Dark brown, black, something in that range. Very thick. I do believe he had a pen stashed in it. That must be convenient for filling out paperwork, which means he’s inventive and iconoclastic.”
“Tall?”
“Mmmm…tall enough. But not too tall. I suppose if he was much taller he’d be intimidating.”
“Then he isn’t intimidating?”
Brenda considered, tilting her head in remembrance. “No. I didn’t find him intimidating. He spoke very gently, except when he was yelling at Cotton Ball…I mean, Olaf.” She laughed at that absurd nickname, once again.
“Where did you meet him?” Granny’s avid expression rang an alarm bell. She didn’t want her grandmother getting her hopes up.
“It was Olaf’s fault. He got off his leash and went after a cooler of fish. Maybe I need to stop buying him those salmon treats. He’s like a junkie now. Oh, one more thing. He has a friend named Redbull. They’re partners, I think.”
Granny sat bolt upright and snapped her fingers. “I know who you’re talking about. You met Galen Cooper!”
No need to be surprised, Brenda realized. Everyone probably knew Galen. He was hard to forget. “I did. I mean, I’ve seen him before, but never talked to him.”
“Well, lucky you. He’s a real character.”
Brenda couldn’t resist. “What do you know about him?”
“Well, where do I start? He’s Thomas Cooper’s brother. The former fire chief, the one who just got married to Carly Gault? Steven Gault’s daughter?”
Ugh, why did so many conversations in this little town involve family tree type discussions? But at least Brenda knew about Steven Gault. Everyone in the country did. He was a rock legend, a member of the Freaks, the most famous resident of Lake Bittersweet until his death a couple of years ago.
Of course she knew Carly too, or knew about her, anyway. As for Thomas Cooper, he’d helped her save Olaf from a coyote during a hike in the woods.
But still, it was hard to believe that someone so wild could be related to the stern-faced fire chief.
“Second of the three,” Granny went on. “The youngest brother, Billy, plays for the Twins.”
Even more surprising. Who knew that a bushy-bearded mountain man was related to a semi-famous baseball player? She wished she could go back and redo their entire conversation. If she could, she’d be less focused on her Maltese and more so on Galen.
“Haven’t you heard the story of how they came here, the Cooper brothers?” her grandmother was asking.
In answer, Brenda clicked the button on the electric tea kettle. Clearly she was going to be here for a bit. “Tell me.”
“People say they were more or less abandoned, taking care of themselves, running wild in the streets. Not here, somewhere else, maybe St. Paul. I don’t remember that detail. My memory…” She shook her head sadly. Which was ridiculous, thought Brenda. She might forget certain details, but when it came to stories, she was a goldmine. “Anyway, when he was a little kid, Thomas was sent here to that Fresh Air Fund camp one summer. He loved it here. Years later, when he was a teenager, he answered an ad for a summer job at the Blue Drake. While he worked here, he saved up money and bought bus fare for his two brothers to join him.”
“How old were they?” Brenda knew her eyes were wide as she took in this story. Her childhood had been one of rules and etiquette. She’d never even ridden a bus except for school field trips.
“Oh, I couldn’t say. Thomas was probably seventeen at the most. Galen’s…maybe two years younger? At any rate, Gault let them stay in one of the Blue Drake cabins over the winter. The community more or less adopted them. A Minnesota winter in an unheated cabin is no joke. All they had was a wood stove. I remember that the Mosedales gave Galen a chainsaw—he and Jason are good friends—and I’d see him nearly every day heading into the woods with that saw and a sled to bring back firewood.”
“He didn’t go to school?” As a teacher, Brenda felt strongly about school attendance. She found two mugs and dropped chamomile tea bags into them.
Her grandmother laughed. “Oh, he probably did, but I doubt he took it very seriously. I never had him in a class when I used to substitute at the high school. He went to the school of survival, and he wouldn’t be the first around here.”
The school of survival. Okay, Brenda could accept that. Textbooks didn’t contain everything a person needed to know about the world. She poured boiling water over the tea bags, and brought a mug to her grandmother. “So they just stayed on in Lake Bittersweet?”
“That’s right. They never went back to Minneapolis, except for Billy, when he got signed to the Twins’ farm team. Thomas became a fireman, and a dad. And Galen…well, he took to the woods like a duck to water. He became a wilderness guide, one of the best in the state. I’d even say he knows more about the flora and fauna of these woods than any naturalist with a PhD.”
Pained, Brenda said, “Please don’t denigrate higher education. I’m still paying off my loans.”
